


If It's Stupid, But It Works, It's Not Stupid.

by TheAsexualofSpades



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Annoying af HR meetings because seriously fuck those things., Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, How Do I Tag, It's a spy organization for crying out loud, Protective James Bond, Why the fuck does MI6 even have those things?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 16:38:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12089040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades
Summary: The reader struggles with anxiety in public places, especially when there are so many people around. James notices and helps her in his own way.NOTE: this is NOT a good idea to help people with anxiety. This is just something that sometimes works for me. I don't want to try and generalize how anxiety affects different people.





	If It's Stupid, But It Works, It's Not Stupid.

**Author's Note:**

> As a bit of a background, the reader struggles with an anxiety attack that pulls them into their own head, making it hard to draw themselves out of the attack because they can't focus on anything. Something that DOES help an attack like this is to ground yourself with something, be it reading a sign, listing things you can see or smell, etc. What James does - in this case - is pull the reader out of their head by giving them something to focus on and relieve their stress energy by creating a frightening situation that they can redirect that energy towards, then giving them an outlet so they can let it go.

There were too many people. The room was suffocating, to begin with, but there were just too many people. Everyone was packed shoulder to shoulder with barely enough room to turn around. So much for a Health and Safety briefing; this room screamed ‘fire hazard’ like crazy. At least there was enough room at the back for her to spread out a little bit. Most people were focused on the front, so she could breathe a little easier. At least until someone jerked her back and grabbed her by the waist. 

 

“Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. Stay nice and quiet for me.”

 

She closed her eyes in order to stave off the collapse of her knees and the outbreak of a whimper. She felt her wrists being pressed against each other and pinned behind her as someone stepped closer. She felt the warm breath on her neck from someone very,  _ very  _ close to her. She felt the weight of something heavy being pressed against her stomach. 

 

“Good girl,” the voice crooned from behind her, rubbing the object over her abdomen in mock comfort. “Now don’t move.”

 

“What are you doing, James?”

 

He froze, before letting out a quiet chuckle. “Smart girl, aren’t you? So then you know what this,” he prodded the object further into her, eliciting a stifled squeak, “can do, don’t you?”

 

She nodded slowly. She felt him lean down and run the object in a circle, just brushing the underside of the arm holding her ribcage against him. “Open your eyes, and stare straight ahead. Try to signal someone else, I turn it on. Call Q, I turn it on. Try to break free,” he paused, and tightened his grip marginally, “I turn it on. Do you understand?” She nodded. “A little louder?”

 

“Yes,” she said, chest beginning to rise and fall with her breathing, “I understand.”

 

“Good girl.”

 

She stood quietly, letting him rub the object over her, flinching every time he prodded it into her slightly harder than necessary, for fear it would flicker to life. He laughed at every one. 

 

“Aww, are you scared? Is the little girl scared of this?” He punctuated the last word by digging the sharper end of the object into several sensitive places around her stomach and sides. Laughing when she jolted away, he held her firmly in place and continued to poke at her as he spoke. “You can’t do anything about it, can you? You’re trapped; can’t run, can’t scream, can’t fight. Because you’re too scared. It’s  _ adorable. _ ” He wiggled the object into her hip, smiling when she let out a quiet keen. 

 

“Stop.” She was still staring straight ahead, but she was ever so slightly tugging her wrists away from him. “Stop. Please.”

 

He cowed her with another poke. “Begging, now, are we? You should know by now that won’t get you anywhere.”

 

The tugging became a little more insistent, and she began to wriggle against the arm around her waist. “No. No. No. No, stop.”

 

She froze when the object was pressed into her navel and she heard the soft  _ click  _ of a button being depressed. He chuckled as he leaned forwards. “I warned you.”

 

The pressure on her wrists released. She wrenched her right wrist away and grabbed his hand, forcing the object away from her. She glanced down and - 

 

A flashlight beam winked innocently back at her. 

 

“Oh, I hate you.” She let his hand drop as James doubled over behind her, head hanging over her shoulder as he wrapped both arms around her. “I really hate you.” She began to gasp, frantically trying to get her breath back as she forced her heart rate to settle. 

 

“Shh, shh, it’s alright,” he said, lifting a hand to take her pulse. She folded in on herself. He pulled her back up by her shoulders and held her against him. “Shh, it’s okay.” He was still laughing. “Do you want to know how long I kept you going?”

 

“No.” She brought her hands up and began rubbing at her face, hard enough to redden large areas of her face. When she brought her hands away for a second, there were bits of dead skin flaking off her fingers. She tried to start again before James caught her hand. 

 

“Don’t hurt yourself, little one,” he murmured, replacing the hands on her face to wipe her tears, “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

 

“H-how,” she managed, trying to straighten up, “d-did you kn-know?”

 

“Are you really surprised, little one?” She shook her head, sagging against him at the pet name. “I know you’ve been upset lately. And I know you hate crowded rooms. But you never let me help you when you’ve got all those walls up. So,” he tightened his grip and slid the flashlight over her again, “this was the best way I could see to get you to let me help you.”

 

She shook her head in disbelief as he pocketed the flashlight, but he was right. But it didn’t stop her anger at the tears. 

 

James looked behind himself. “Little one, step backward.” She let out frightened mewl as he tugged her towards him. “Then I can lean against the wall and you can lean on me.” Slowly, he coaxed her back so her weight was resting against him and his back was against the wall. “There you go.”

 

Her head lolled against him, burying half of her face in his jacket as he brushed his thumb over her face. Now she was crying, she didn’t want to stop. She covered her mouth with her hand in an effort to stifle herself. 

 

“Shh, shh, it’s alright, you can cry,” James hushed, “take that hand down, you’re safe.”

 

She glanced towards the others. He followed her gaze. “Don’t you worry, they’re far too absorbed in Heather’s hysterical screeching to worry about us. I think we’re far enough away.” He pried her hand off of her face and used it to hold her closer. “It’s alright. You can rest now.”

 

She tried to pull her hand away, sighing when she found no leeway, and let it flop. He let her hand go and wrapped both arms around her waist, shifting her backward. She sighed. “Thank you.”

 

James gave her a squeeze. “Of course, little one. Now hush.”

**Author's Note:**

> Clearly, I don't own James Bond. I only own the Reader character. 
> 
> AGAIN: this isn't a good representation of how anxiety works or how to deal with it, this is just based on my personal experience and what helps me.


End file.
